Place and Time
by bannerday
Summary: What happens when unexpected events lead Bella Swan to someone and something even more unexpected? Sometimes it's all about being in the right place at the right time.
1. A Traveling Envelope

**Place and Time**

**A/N:** Sometimes it's all about being in the right place at the right time. Often, much has to fall in place to arrive at that fated right place at the right time.

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**Chapter 1: The Traveling Envelope**

By the time the envelope landed in Bella Swan's hands, it was looking a little worse for the wear. That was understandable, as it had spent the past forty-plus days traveling from one corner of the continental United States to the other.

And then back again.

The envelope had been mailed off from Bellevue, Washington, almost six weeks ago, and had been addressed to Ms. Isabella Swan, care of Mr. and Mrs. Phil Dwyer, at Bella's mother and stepfather's old address in Phoenix.

Unfortunately, being their _old _address, Renee and Phil Dwyer were no longer living there when the envelope arrived. And neither was Bella.

After seven years as an assistant baseball coach at Arizona State University, Phil had taken a job with the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp. It was the same minor league baseball team he had played for years earlier, back when they were the Jacksonville Suns. Phil was as thrilled about the new job as Renee was about living in a more tropical climate near the beach. So the Dwyers had quickly sold their house, packed up, and moved to Florida.

Naturally, they had notified their Phoenix post office of their impending move, and upon moving, further in-coming mail had been held up until notification of their new address was received. That being the case, the envelope for Bella had waited in a postal bin for two weeks before a bright yellow change-of-address label was slapped onto it and it was forwarded to their new address in Jacksonville.

Unfortunately, Bella hadn't made the move to Florida.

Bella had been in the middle of an internship at the time, and had remained behind in Phoenix. As soon as the internship was over, Bella's own plans would be leading her elsewhere. In the meantime, she had been staying with Samantha Larkin, a friend from college, who had kindly offered up her fold-out couch.

When the envelope intended for Bella had made it to the Dwyer's new Jacksonville address, Renee had fully intended to send it right back to her daughter at her friend's apartment. Somehow though, between receiving it and purchasing a larger manila envelope in which to return it, Renee had managed to misplace it. Calling Bella to notify her of her misplaced mail, and attributing its unknown whereabouts to the chaos of moving everything into a new home, Renee had promised to mail it off as soon as it turned up.

A week later, the envelope was still missing.

But the following week, it resurfaced amongst some placemats in a drawer. Renee immediately put it in the larger manila envelope, took it to the post office, and mailed it off to Phoenix.

The one thing it didn't occur to Renee to do was tell her daughter it was finally on its way.

The large manila envelope reached Samantha Larkin's apartment mailbox a couple days later, but sadly, Bella was no longer there. Only one day earlier, Bella had loaded up her car and moved out of the apartment, the city, and the state.

The reason for her move was mostly career-driven. Jobs in her chosen field were hard to come by in Phoenix and usually required two years' prior experience. Which left Bella to wonder how she was to gain that experience if no one would hire her without it.

But that wasn't the case in Seattle, she'd learned. The job prospects there were excellent. The city was continuing to grow, business was booming, and building was non-stop. Construction cranes were perched on emerging high-rise apartment and office buildings all over the city. More importantly, there were ample job listings for accredited personnel in Bella's field, often requiring no other prior experience than an internship.

So, Bella had decided to relocate to Seattle. At least for two years. After that, who knew?

There was an added bonus to living in Washington: Bella would be closer to her father.

Charlie Swan still lived in Forks, a few hours' drive west of Seattle, in the same house where Bella had begun life with her parents twenty-five years earlier.

After Renee and Charlie's divorce, there had been multiple moves with her mother. But Bella had returned to that childhood home in Forks for visits and had even spent her high school years there, living with her father.

Now, until she could find an apartment in Seattle, Bella had once again headed for her father and that childhood home in Forks.

And that's where Bella's mail finally caught up with her after her own cross-country travels from Phoenix to Forks...

*O*

"Bells? I'm home," Dad calls out as he walks in the door, returning from his shift at the police station.

"Hi, Dad. I'm in the kitchen." I give the spaghetti sauce a stir and turn on the burner beneath the pot of water.

"Sure smells good in here," Dad says, joining me in the kitchen and setting the day's mail on the counter. "Thank you for making dinner. I forgot how nice it was to come home to a home-cooked meal."

I smile. "You're welcome, but you'd better not get too used to it. You know this is only temporary."

"I know, kiddo, but I'll happily take whatever I can get." Opening the fridge, he grabs a cold beer.

"Doesn't Sue ever cook for you?" I ask, wondering about his girlfriend, who also lives in Forks.

"At her house. Not here."

I nod as he pops the top and takes a drink of his beer.

"It'll be a few minutes before I can throw the pasta in, so you have time if you want to change first," I tell him.

"Yeah, I'd like to get out of this uniform. Be back in a jiffy." He starts away but then turns back. "I almost forgot… You got some mail from your mom." He nods at the small pile on the counter.

"Oh, thanks."

As he heads upstairs, I move over to look through the mail and find a manila envelope from Mom, forwarded to me in Samantha's handwriting. It must have gotten to Phoenix right after I left. Inside is a note, folded around an elegant but travel-worn, ivory envelope.

_Dear Bella,_

_I'm sorry it took so long to find your mail, but here it finally is! _

_Thank you again for being so understanding about our abrupt move. Phil is so happy with the new job, and our new house is a dream! It's just wonderful being near the beach and just a short walk from the community pool and clubhouse. I can't wait until you can come visit!_

_Let us know when you leave for Washington. I worry about you driving all that way alone. Good luck with the job search and apartment hunt in Seattle. I know you'll find something fast._

_Love you and miss you,_

_Mom_

I probably should have let her know when I left, but I figured things were stressful and hectic enough for them. This way she missed out on her worrying, and I was in contact with Dad anyway.

Setting the note down, I pick up the envelope she forwarded to me. There's a change of address label covering our old Phoenix address, and the return address is smudged, but the postmark is from Bellevue, Washington. Then I notice date. Holy crap! This thing was mailed a month and a half ago!

Opening it, I pull out a card with several smaller enclosures and began reading.

"Anything interesting?" Dad asks, startling me when he returns a few moments later.

"Oh. Um… Yeah..." I glance back at the card in my hand. "It's a wedding invitation… from Rosalie Hale."

"Little Rosie's getting married?"

"She's a year older than me, Dad. But yeah. She's getting married in a week and a half. In Seattle."

"You planning on going?"

"I don't think so. The deadline to RSVP has already passed, and I'm sure this was more of an announcement than an actual invitation. Rose had no idea I would be here."

His eyes narrow as he looks at me. "You didn't know she was engaged?"

"No. It's been a long time since we've been in touch."

"You two used to be such good friends."

"Yeah. But you know how it goes, things change, people grow apart."

He nods, still studying me with his cop's eyes. "You still ought to send your regrets, Bells. And maybe let her know you're back in Washington."

"I will. I'll do that tonight."

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**A/N: As always, I hope you'll share your thoughts. :)**


	2. Some Motherly Advice

**Place and Time**

**A/N: **You have no idea how much I love hearing from you all. XO

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**Chapter 2: Some Motherly Advice **

During dinner, Dad asks if I talked to Mom today since I didn't call last evening when I got here. Feeling another pang of guilt at leaving Mom out of the loop, I tell him I'll call after dinner.

Now, with dinner and dishes behind us, I head upstairs to get my phone.

Like the rest of the house, my old bedroom still looks much the same as it did when I was in high school. Same green walls and white curtains. Same bed and purple bedspread. Same dresser, desk, and matching bookshelf, but all that furniture is mostly empty now. My laptop rests where the ancient PC once stood, but there's still some old artwork and photos tacked up around the room beneath the strand of twinkle lights.

Grabbing my phone from the dresser, I sit on the bed and call Mom. Her cell rings a handful of times before her cheery voice greets me.

"_Hi, baby! How's it going?" _

"Great. How are you, Mom? How's Phil and the new house?"

"_We're both fine and oh my gosh, I just love this house! I picked out furniture for the Florida room today. Isn't that a kick—living in Florida and having a Florida room? I mean, what other state has its own room in a house? Who would even _want_ an Alaska room?"_

I laugh. She thinks of the weirdest things. "Not me, that's for sure. It sounds awfully cold_._"

"_Right?!"_ she laughs. She has a great laugh. It's such a warm sound.

"So, tell me what kind of furniture you chose." She's going to tell me anyway, so we might as well get to it. She's excited about her decorating, and it's good to hear her voice.

I get the pros and cons of rattan, seagrass, and bamboo. By the time we get to decisions on color schemes and patterns, hibiscus versus birds of paradise, and parrots versus flamingos, I'm completely lost. She assures me she'll text me photos when the furniture is delivered, and I just tell her it all sounds very exciting.

"_So, what's new, baby? Oh! Did you get the envelope I sent?"_

"Yeah, I just got it today, actually."

"_Today? But I mailed it on Wednesday. Or was it Thursday? No, it was definitely Wednesday. I can't believe it took a full week to…"_

"Yeah, no, Mom. It got to Phoenix a few days ago." Ugh. Here we go… She's not going to like this. "I'd already left for Washington when it got to Samantha's, but she forwarded it to me at Dad's. I made it here yesterday, and I'm sorry I didn't call you last night, but I figured it was too late, your time."

"_You're already at Charlie's?! I thought you were still in Phoenix! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? You drove all that way, and I had no idea?!"_

"Mom, I'm fine. The drive was fine and the hotels were fine. I checked in with Dad so he knew where I was each day. Now it's over, everything worked out, and you didn't have to worry."

She sighs. _"I guess... Still, I wish I'd known, Bella." _

I feel kind of bad, but just like that, we move on. _"So, what was in the envelope I sent? Anything important?"_

"Um, yeah, kind of. It was a wedding invitation. From Rosalie Hale."

"_Oh, my goodness! Oh, dear… Rose isn't marrying that dreadful Roscoe boy, is she?"_

"Royce. And no, it's someone else."

"_Well, thank goodness for that. So who is she marrying? What's his name?"_

"Um...I don't remember, and I left the invitation downstairs, but I think his name started with an E…"

"_Was it Eric? Ethan? Or Evan?"_

"No, none of those. I remember thinking it was kind of old-fashioned, though."

"_Well, how about Ernest? Eugene? Elmer? Oh, Bella, promise me you'll never marry an Elmer! I would hear Elmer Fudd's voice in my head every time you mentioned him. Don't do that to me. Or to yourself. How could you ever have wild, passionate sex with an Elmer?!"_

I'm laughing at her crazy, but she makes a valid point.

"I won't, Mom. I promise. And I don't think Rose is marrying or having wild, passionate sex with an Elmer either. I'll double-check the invitation and text you his name later. I don't want you to stay up all night, worrying about Rose trying to get her freak on with Elmer Fudd."

She laughs along with me._ "Thank you. So tell me about this wedding. Where is it, and are you going? Or is it one of those unreasonable destination things no one in their right mind can afford?"_

"No, it's here in Seattle. But it's next Saturday, and I doubt I'll go. I missed the cut-off for RSVPs and I don't think…"

"_You can still go to the wedding, Bella. The RSVPs are just to get a head count for seating and food at the reception, but anyone can attend a wedding."_

"I know, but… Rose and I haven't talked in years, and she didn't know I would be here in Washington. My guess is the invitation was more of an announcement, and I think it would be awkward if I just…showed up."

"_Oh, sweetheart… Rose is your oldest friend. What if sending the invitation was her way of trying to finally reach out to you? Maybe she was hoping you'd make the next move. Maybe she feels awkward too."_

I pick at a thread on my comforter. "Yeah, I don't know. Dad suggested telling her I've moved back when I send my regrets, so I'll do that much."

"_Good. And be sure to let her know the invitation was held up in the mail with all of us moving. You might also want to include your phone number, just in case. Maybe she'll get in touch, and you'll finally be able to patch things up. And if you don't hear from her, well, at least you tried, right?"_

"Yeah, you're right. I'll do that tonight and get it in the mail tomorrow."

"_Good. Keep me posted." _

"I will."

"_Anything else you want to talk about?"_

"No, I guess that's probably it for now."

"_Okay. I love you, Bella."_

"Love you too, Mom. Goodnight."

"_Goodnight, baby."_

Sliding off the bed, I pocket my phone and head over to my old desk for some paper to write a note to Rose. My paper selection leaves a lot to be desired. There's a SpongeBob SquarePants tablet, or the last few pages of an ancient spiral notebook, or several faded sheets of construction paper. With a sigh, I close the drawer and head downstairs.

I find Dad parked in his recliner, tuned into an old episode of CSI Somewhere.

"Dad, do you have any nice paper I could use? Like…_stationery_?"

He looks up at me like I'm sporting an extra head, so I amend my request. "Or just something kind of…_plain_? I want to write a note to Rose and all my stuff is packed away."

"There's a notepad in the drawer by the phone. Pens, too."

"That'll work. Thanks."

With pen, notepad, and wedding invitation paraphernalia in hand, I take a seat at the kitchen table, composing my thoughts before composing my note. There's a lot I want to say, but I don't know Rose's position on things. Is this really an invitation or more of an announcement? In the end, I keep things fairly short, referring to it as both, and it takes me several rewrites before I'm satisfied.

_Dear Rose,_

_I'm sorry it has taken me so long to return this response card, but I honestly just got your wedding announcement today. Mom and Phil were in the process of moving to Florida, and I was staying with a friend before moving back to Washington, so the invitation took a trip around the US before finally catching up to me at Dad's house in Forks today. _

_Anyway, congratulations to you and your husband-to-be. I wish you both every happiness together, and I'll be thinking of you on your very special day._

_Bella_

_P.S. I'm still at the same number if you feel like calling to chat sometime: 360)323-4782._

After a final reread, I fill in my name on the response card and place a checkmark next to _will not attend. _Thinking about what Mom said earlier, I wonder if Rose was hopeful I might come. Maybe that's why the response card was included. Or maybe that's just standard procedure.

Folding my note, I slide it and the response card into the provided envelope. It's pre-addressed to Rose—at an address in Bellevue. Which isn't Rose's parents' address in Seattle. Which means it must be where she lives now.

"Hey, Dad? Where's _Bellevue_?"

"East of Seattle. Other side of Lake Washington."

"How far from Seattle?"

"Maybe ten miles?"

Oh. Wow. Rose would be close to me in Seattle. Unless she's moving after the wedding. Who even knows where her fiancé lives? Or where he's from? Which reminds me…

Taking a look back at the invitation, I pick up my phone and send Mom a quick text:

_It's Emmett. Emmett William McCarty._

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**A/N: As always, I would love to hear from you. :)**


	3. The Summer Sisters

**Place and Time**

**A/N: **Portions of this story are _daughter-biographical_, but I've advised her she's fic-fodder, and she's okay with that. A year ago, we helped her move from Southern California to Seattle. She found the perfect apartment and then found the perfect job to get her two years' of experience in her chosen field. :)

Here's twenty five years of Bella and Rose's friendship in a nutshell…

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**Chapter 3: The Summer Sisters**

After texting Mom, I look back at the small envelope addressed to _Miss Rosalie Hale_, thinking of the girl I knew.

Like Mom said, Rose is my oldest friend. For a long time, she was also my very best friend.

Not that I had many while growing up. I think I moved around too much for that. I also didn't inherit Mom's extrovert gene. She can chat up anyone and initiate friendships quickly and easily—if not always maintaining them for the long haul. I've always been more like Dad; a quieter, more self-contained observer than an eager interactor. But that's probably partly due to my nomadic childhood, too.

After my parents' divorce, Mom and I moved a lot, rarely staying in one place long enough for me to form any lasting attachments.

My friendship with Rose was the exception.

Rose and I go way back; all the way back to the womb. Well, I do, anyway. I was days away from making my debut, and Rose was exactly one year out, when our mothers met in the waiting room at Forks Medical Center.

Mrs. Hale had brought little Rosalie in for her one-year check-up, and Mom had come in for what turned out to be our last prenatal appointment. Due to a mix-up in scheduling, Doctor Gerandy was running behind, and though our mothers hadn't met before, they got to chatting in the waiting room. By the time Rose was called in to see the doctor, Renee Swan and Lillian Hale were on a first-name basis and had exchanged phone numbers and promises to get together soon.

The get-togethers began a few weeks after I was born. As young, stay-at-home moms with baby girls, they bonded quickly and easily. In time, Rose and I bonded too. Granted, it took me a while to move beyond myself and my basic needs as an infant to become a more engaging and interactive baby, but Rose waited patiently for me.

During those pre-school years, our moms got together and got us together regularly. As Rose and I grew, there were playdates at each other's homes and playtime and picnics at the park. We moved from infancy into toddlerhood and early childhood together, with one-year-older Rose leading the way and year-younger me working diligently to catch up.

Everything changed when Mom and Dad divorced.

Longing for the sunshine and warmth of the more temperate climate of her California youth, Mom began a migration ever-southwards, with me in tow.

Mom kept in touch with Lillian throughout our elementary school years, though, and the two of them helped Rose and me do the same. We traded hellos when our moms spoke by phone. We mailed each other drawings and homemade cards. We even exchanged small gifts for our September birthdays, Christmas, and Valentine's Day. And when the summers rolled around, there were always trips back to Forks. Summers at Dad's meant summers with Rose. And for those two months a year, Rose and I were inseparable.

Dad called us "the summer sisters."

I stayed at Rose's house on days when Dad worked, but on his days off, he kept us entertained. He'd take us for lunch or sundaes at the diner, or we'd watch movies at home, eating pizza or popcorn. There were hikes, beach trips, and a fishing trip or two, but with Rose and me screaming at each flip-flopping fish Dad reeled in, those fishing trips were rare. Dad even used to set up the pop-up tent in the living room, so Rose and I could "camp out" with all the comforts of home.

Heading into adolescence, the tent, Rose, and I eventually made it out to the backyard. By then, our summer _playtime_ had evolved into _hanging out_—with sleepovers, talking, and giggling until dawn.

The summer after I finished junior high, Mom remarried.

I was happy for her, because Phil's a nice guy, and I could see how happy they were together. But I couldn't handle the prospect of living with my newlywed mom and her newlywed husband. A few days after they exchanged vows at the county courthouse, I traded Phoenix for Forks, moving to live with Dad and attend high school with Rose in the fall.

That same summer, the Hales joined some old friends for a weeklong vacation on Catalina Island, off the coast of Southern California. Rose was allowed to bring two friends, so she invited me and Alice Brandon—a petite girl Rose's age who had a huge personality. The three of us got along well, and that vacation remains one of my fondest memories from my youth. To the three of us girls, that tiny speck of land with its miniscule beaches was our Riviera, and for me, that coming-of-age summer was the highlight of all my summers.

Because of our age difference and differing interests, Rose and I had few classes together during high school. Rose was athletic and played soccer and softball for the Lady Spartans. My own extracurricular pursuits involved the school newspaper and yearbook. But we attended most school events together: games, dances, concerts, and theatrical productions—which usually involved Alice, behind-the-scenes. Even later, when there were boyfriends and part-time jobs, Rose and I remained close and got together often.

The summer after Rose graduated from high school was to be our last full summer together, though we didn't know it at the time. Rose would be heading off to the University of Washington that fall, and I would be starting my senior year at Forks High. That same fall, my stepdad started a new job, impacting my own post-high school plans.

Phil had been a college and minor league baseball player before injury cut his career short. After going back to school, he wound up teaching sports classes and coaching ball at a junior college in Phoenix. Then he scored the job at Arizona State University. With him on staff at ASU, attending college in Phoenix after I finished high school was a financial no-brainer. As his step-daughter, my tuition would be one-fourth the cost of the average student's. And with Mom and Phil living just a short commute from the ASU campus, I wouldn't have any living expenses either. I already had my own guest bedroom and bathroom at the opposite end of the house from theirs, and I'd visited often enough during high school to know I could keep to myself if I wanted.

During my final year at Forks High, seeing Rose on weekends or holiday breaks tapered off when she fell head over heels for a guy she'd met at school. She didn't come home as often, or stay as long. But I was happy for her, and when I finally met Royce King, he seemed nice. At first. But over time, there was something about him that I just didn't like.

After I moved back to Phoenix for college, Rose and I still kept in touch. I made time to visit her whenever I visited Dad during the holidays. Even after Mr. Hale moved up the corporate ladder and relocated his family to Seattle, Rose and I still talked on the phone or saw each other occasionally. Often with Royce hanging around or waiting in the wings, sort of dictating and overseeing everything Rose did.

During my freshman and sophomore years of college, I visited Rose in Seattle a few times. She was still involved with charismatic and controlling Royce, and I finally voiced my opinions about how he treated her. I'd held it in, but I couldn't anymore. And maybe I overstepped, but I was concerned.

Rose didn't want to hear it, however. She thought I was being ridiculous. And an awful, unsupportive friend. And she let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I was clearly jealous, and should worry about my own love life, not hers. When she asked me to leave, I was already headed for the door.

That was the last time I saw Rosalie Hale.

My onetime summer sister.

"Hey, Bells?" Dad calls from the living room, interrupting my thoughts. "You writing Rose a note or a novel?"

I'm surprised to find myself still seated at the kitchen table, still holding Rose's RSVP.

"I'm done. I just got a little side-tracked." I get up to join him in the living room.

"Forgot to ask earlier…" Dad begins when I appear. "We still on for this weekend?" He means our trip to Seattle to apartment hunt, I realize.

"Yeah. I thought I'd spend tomorrow and Friday checking apartment listings and starting on job applications. I'll see what's available, make a list of potential places, and call to try to set up some appointments."

"Better look for something central, since you don't know where you'll be working."

"Yeah, that's a good point."

"And make sure it has parking. It might cost extra, but it's worth the expense. If you wind up working odd hours, I don't want you driving around late at night, hunting for street parking, and walking alone for blocks to get home."

"I know. I don't want that either, Dad. I'll make sure they have parking."

He nods, seemingly satisfied.

I hold up the envelope in my hand. "Should I put this out in the mailbox, or could you drop it off at the post office on your way to work tomorrow?"

"I'll take it. Put it with my keys by the door."

"Awesome. Thanks." I set the envelope by his keys on the shelf beneath the coat rack.

"You want to watch TV for a bit?" he offers, sounding hopeful. I know he'd like to spend a little time together. I would too, and I could definitely use a distraction right now. But I also know there's a very narrow scope of what Dad is willing to watch on TV, and I just can't resist pulling his leg.

"Sure, I'll watch TV. How about _The Bachelor_? You want to watch that?"

His grimace is priceless. And answer enough.

"Dad, I'm kidding!" I laugh.

"Thank God," he huffs, shaking his head. "I can't stand to watch grown men and women embarrassing themselves on national TV. You watch that nonsense, Bells?"

"No, I feel the same about those shows. I don't even know if it's airing currently, anyway. How about if you pick out a movie for us to watch on cable?"

"I'll pick three, you get two vetoes. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough. While you find your picks, I'll make us some dessert. I need some ice cream. You want a root beer float?"

"Sure, thanks. That sounds good."

While I'm in the kitchen, scooping ice cream and pouring soda, Dad reads off the summaries of his three movie picks. They're totally predictable: a mob family crime drama, a backwoods murder mystery, or an international drug cartel extravaganza.

Returning with our frosty glasses, I hand him his and then settle into the corner of the couch, casting my vote for the backwoods murder mystery. It seems likely to offer the best distraction with the least explosions and lowest death toll.

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**A/N: There you go. I hope to hear from you. :)**


	4. Online and Afield

**Place and Time**

**A/N: **Sorry I went missing. We had some upsets. We had to put down our dear old doggy, and I didn't feel like writing. Then I burned my hand badly and couldn't write. We moved our son back to SoCal, and I got too busy to write. Then Hubby's health concerns flared, and I was too distracted to write. Now he's okay, and we're taking off on a road trip to see our daughter in Seattle. Since she's part-inspiration for this fic, I couldn't _not_ write. So here I am. :)

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**C-4: Online and Afield**

I'm up early Thursday morning, having breakfast with Dad before he leaves for work. If he's going to ply me with bacon and eggs so I'll spend more time with him, I'm not putting up a fight. I've missed him too.

Once he's out the door with Rose's wedding RSVP in hand, I make quick work of the dishes, and head back upstairs. After a quick shower, I get dressed for the day and settle in with my laptop to start my apartment hunt.

Like Dad suggested, I'm searching listings in central Seattle since I don't know where I'll find a job. I don't want to be stuck in traffic on the I-5 every day, commuting from one end of the Seattle sprawl to the other for work, but half that distance would be manageable.

Apartments in and near downtown are more expensive than I'd expected, and I consider downgrading my search to cheaper studio apartments. But after looking at photos of several, I scratch that idea. I really want a place with multiple rooms, not a cramped room serving multiple functions. Thankfully, I've stockpiled a decent savings until a regular income kicks in, and I have Dad's neighbor, Mrs. Cope, to thank for much of that.

Shelly Cope has been the office manager at Forks Medical Center for as long as I can remember. In the summer after my sophomore year of high school, the medical center was in the process of going paperless, switching to a new computerized system. All prior patient medical records had to be scanned into the system, which wasn't difficult, but was very time-consuming. The doctors and staff were swamped, implementing and learning the new system while keeping up with regular duties and patient visits. So when Shelly asked if I was interested in a part-time job, helping to scan medical records into the computer, I said yes.

When I graduated from high school two years later, everything had long since been updated in the computer, but Shelly had kept me on, pitching in after school with routine medical office clerical work. The staff was like family to me by then, and when I had to quit to move to Phoenix for college, they threw me a goodbye party. They sent me off with cards and a few small gifts, and Shelly gave me a glowing letter of recommendation. That letter helped me get a similar job at Southwest Medical Center in Phoenix, where I continued working right up until my internship.

I guess you could say I'm unintentionally thrifty, because I've managed to save most of what I've earned. I've never been much of a shopper and living with Mom and Phil while attending ASU, I had few expenses. Now, I have my own money to use on my own place and buy my own things to furnish it. Which is kind of exciting.

But first, I have to _find_ my own place, so onward with the apartment search…

*O*

By the time Dad comes home from work, I'm nearly cross-eyed from staring at the computer all day. Over a dinner of leftover spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread, I give him the rundown of my online hunting expedition.

"I found fifteen apartments for us to check out this weekend. Most are in or near downtown between Pioneer Park and Pike Place Market or up in First Hill, closer to the freeway."

"They have parking?" Dad asks around a bite of salad.

I nod. "_Guaranteed and secure_," I quote from what I read online.

"Good. I'll sleep better at night. How's the rent?"

"They're kind of pricey in those areas. The cheapest was $1,500 a month for a studio, but prices went up to over $2,500 for a one-bedroom. Parking is another $200 to $300 on top of that."

Dad's forkful of spaghetti has stalled out halfway to his open mouth. His thick eyebrows pull together in a frown as he sets his fork down.

"You going to be able to afford that, Bells?"

"If I get a full-time position. But if that takes a while, or if I wind up having to take a part-time position temporarily, I've got my savings to fall back on."

His frown deepens. "I don't want you using up your savings."

"I don't either, Dad. And I won't. If worse comes to worst, I'll find medical office work again. Or I could branch out to coffee shops—they're on every corner in Seattle, right?"

"So it seems." He rolls his eyes. He can't abide what he refers to as _five-dollar-whoop-dee-doo coffee_. "But don't sell yourself short, kiddo. You're smart, and I'm sure you'll find the right job pretty quick. Anywhere you apply would be lucky to have you."

"You have to say that—you're my father."

"No, I mean it. They'll see your records and know you're a hard worker."

I smile, hoping he's right.

*O*

On Friday, I'm holed up in my room once again. I've updated my resume, organized my letters of recommendation, and started combing through job listings. Now I'm beginning to fill out applications online but I won't send them off until I have a Seattle address to accompany them.

In the middle of my umpteenth application, I hear Dad calling me. I wonder what he's doing home, until I notice the time. It's already after five freaking o'clock!

Stiff from sitting so long, I get up, stretch, and almost trip on my way to the hall. I feel lightheaded and suddenly starving. I didn't eat lunch, nor have I given a single thought to dinner.

"I'm up here, Dad!" I call out as I head downstairs. "I didn't realize it was so late. I spent the day working on job applications and completely lost track of time."

He looks up and smiles as he sets the mail on the counter. "You hungry, kiddo? I was thinking we could go to Pacific Pizza or call in an order to Home Slice Take 'n Bake. Either one sound good?"

"A Home Slice pizza sounds awesome."

"What do you want on it?"

"The usual. Everything but anchovy."

"That's my girl. I'll call it in and get changed to go pick it up."

"Okay. I'll make a salad, set the table, and heat up the oven."

"Like a well-oiled machine," Dad observes, already punching Home Slice's number into his cell from memory. "Tonight, we need to figure out a plan of attack for Seattle tomorrow," he tells me as he puts the phone to his ear. "I'd like to get an early start."

"Yeah, sure."

He nods as he starts speaking into the phone, placing our order.

*O*

The weekend in Seattle is hectic. Our apartment hunt begins with a couple places in the industrial district. From there, we drive into downtown, have lunch at Pike Place, and then check out a few apartments nearby. Afterwards, we drive to see a few others near Pioneer Park and a bit farther north.

In each building, we are given a tour of the amenities before being shown the actual apartments for rent. We see common rooms which can be reserved for parties, like big kitchens and dining areas, and movie and sports event viewing rooms with large TVs. Some buildings include gyms and a few have roof-top decks.

While Dad asks the leasing agent questions about security and costs, I jot down notes on printouts I made at home home and take photos or videos of the actual apartments.

By late-afternoon, we're dragging, and my head is swimming with all I've seen. I spot a coffee shop on the corner and suggest we grab a cup. Dad is agreeable—as long as he can have "normal" coffee. Over a drip coffee for him and a latte for me, we take inventory of the eight apartments we've checked out so far.

The two cheapest apartments were in areas that Dad deems too seedy, and I'm in agreement when he nixes them. The next building looked right into CenturyLink Field, and though Dad's eyes lit up at the prospect of watching the Seahawks play from my potential living room, the available units were overly pricey, so that's a no-go. Two apartment buildings near the University of Washington appeared to be meccas for college students, and I don't want to feel like I'm living in a dorm at this point. The remaining three apartments were my best bets, but they all had drawbacks. One had a nice view but very little closet or kitchen storage space. The other two had more storage space but looked directly into the windows of buildings opposite them, and I don't want to feel like I'm living in a fishbowl or looking into one.

"I'm getting discouraged," I tell Dad. "Maybe I'm being too picky."

"No, you're not, Bells. You just haven't found the right place. But we still have more to see, and we can always expand the search tomorrow before heading home, if necessary. Looks like there's a lot out there."

"Yeah, you're right." We've seen numerous signs on street corners for nearby apartment buildings with available units to rent.

Dad looks at his watch. "We've got time for a couple more before the leasing offices close for the day. Where to next?"

I shuffle through my remaining printouts. "Up to First Hill."

First Hill is a quiet mix of tall residential buildings, medical buildings, and hospitals on tree-lined streets. Apartment building number nine has all the ambience of a cell block, so Dad and I quickly move on to building number ten—another tall building that's right next to a park.

The leasing agent who greets us is a tall young woman, probably around my own age. She wants to show us the amenities first—just like every other agent we've met with today—and Dad sighs audibly. He's over the amenities tours, like I am. They're a nice added bonus, but I won't be _living_ in the amenities.

"If it's okay, Angela, we'd really like to see the apartments first," Dad says.

"Sure. We can do that first if you'd prefer," she says brightly. Pressing the call button at the elevator bank, she gives us a warm, understanding smile. "I get the feeling it's been a long day."

"It has," I answer, and there's something about her friendly demeanor that invites me to explain. "We drove four hours to get to here from the Olympic Peninsula this morning and have been pounding the pavement ever since. We're already seen nine other apartments, but nothing has quite hit the mark."

"Apartment hunts can really be overwhelming," she says as she motions us into the elevator. "Why don't you tell me what you did and didn't like in the apartments you've seen so far?"

She presses the button for the sixteenth floor, and as we ascend, I give her a quick rundown.

When the doors open, she gestures for us to follow her. "The good thing is, you now know exactly what you want. And the _great_ thing is…" Her dark eyes twinkle through her retro glasses as she looks back at me. "I think we might have just what you're looking for. I can show you three different models, but I think this one might be the best match, based on your preferences." She stops to unlock a door and waves us inside.

The apartment is bright and airy. The kitchen, just off to the left, is small but has plenty of drawers and cupboards. A wide pillar between the kitchen and living room conceals ductwork, Angela explains, but opening a door on the kitchen side of the pillar, she shows me a narrow pantry also housed in the pillar.

"What a smart idea," I tell her.

"Isn't it? It's obviously for food storage, but I keep small kitchen appliances in mine."

"So you live here in the building?" I ask.

She nods, smiling. "I do. Same floorplan. I just love it here at The Elysian," she enthuses. "I've worked here for five months but just moved in two months ago. The short commute to work is awesome." I laugh at her comment and she grins back at me.

As we continue on, Dad asks Angela a few questions while I begin exploring, jotting down notes, and taking photos.

The living room has a sweeping, unobstructed view of the city and enough space for separate sitting and dining areas. The bedroom has the same great view and surprisingly, a glass door to a balcony overlooking the park next door. The balcony is tiny—barely big enough for a chair and small side table—but it's the only one we've seen today. A walk-in closet is another nice surprise. The bathroom, just opposite the bedroom, has a full-sized bathtub, and again, everything looks new. Opening a closet next to the bathroom, I find a stacked washer and dryer.

"This place has everything!" I tell Angela.

"I had a feeling you'd think so," she laughs.

As we head back out to the living room, I give Dad a look that says, _this is perfect, and I want it_. Judging by his responding expression, he's already figured that much out.

Checking his watch, he asks, "Do we still have time to tour the amenities, Angela?"

"Of course!"

On the way up in the elevator, she mentions that the residents are mostly young professionals, both singles and couples. "The Elysian also offers monthly mixers for its residents," she adds. "It's a great opportunity to meet and socialize and get to know your neighbors."

"That's a nice plus," I tell her.

On the thirtieth floor, she shows us a variety of common rooms: sitting areas, some with gas fireplaces, a mini movie theater, a large kitchen and dining area roomy enough to seat twelve. There's even a gym with an expansive view to the southeast and Mount Rainier in the distance. Outside, a rooftop deck has barbecue grills and seating areas partitioned off from one another with planters of flowers, grasses, and bushes. The views are incredible in all directions. I think we're higher than the Space Needle.

There's not a single thing I don't love about this place. Even though the monthly rent is near the upper end of my price range, I know I want to live here, and I tell Dad and Angela as much.

By the time we head back down to the leasing office, it's already closing time. Angela says she doesn't mind staying to finalize things, but Dad asks if we can just come back in the morning.

"Sure, that's fine," she says. "I'm off tomorrow, but my associate, Peter, will be happy to help you with the paperwork."

We make an appointment to meet Peter at ten-thirty, and then Angela hands each of us her card. "If you think of any further questions or concerns this evening, don't hesitate to call."

We thank her and she shakes our hands.

"It was nice meeting you both. I hope to see you around, Bella."

"Thanks, Angela. I hope so, too."

*O*

"I wanted you to have the chance to sleep on it before committing," Dad tells me once we're outside and on our way to our hotel. "If you change your mind, we can always cancel the appointment with Peter and see some other places."

"Yeah. That's probably the smart thing to do."

But as the evening wears on and we discuss my options over dinner and afterwards, I'm only more convinced I'm making right choice. I can tell Dad likes the place too. He's impressed with the security measures, like the key and fob entries to the building, elevator bank, and gated garage, as well as the lobby's daytime concierge and nighttime security guard.

At night, I have a hard time falling asleep. Instead, I lie awake, imagining myself living on my own in that apartment, with my own imaginary belongings.

*O*

After breakfast the next morning, we meet with Peter to go over the lease and fill out paperwork. Dad has to co-sign, but once I'm gainfully employed and on my own financial feet, we'll be able to take him off the lease. When it comes time to pony up the first and last month's rent, Dad adamantly refuses to let me pay with my own money.

"Let me take care of this, Bella. You can be in charge of all the other months' rent. Besides, you're going to have to spend money to fill that apartment up with something besides air to sit in and sleep in. Consider this my investment in your future. Just promise me you'll have a chair available when I come visit. I'm too old to sit on the floor."

"Okay, okay," I laugh, finally giving in. "Thank you for investing in me, then. And I promise you won't have to sit on the floor."

We wrap things up with Peter and he hands me a folder of resident information along with a diagram of my apartment's floorplan with exact dimensions for each room. "That might come in handy for furnishing the place," he says, nodding at the sheet. "Thursday, you can come by any time after nine to pick up your key."

"Great. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

*O*

On the drive back to Forks in the afternoon, I'm absolutely giddy. I have my own place. My own awesome, adulty place where I can live my own adulty life, doing adulty things. Provided I find an adulty job, of course.

Dad mentions a few things I can take from home to help furnish my apartment, but for the most part, I'll have to buy new—or used. I start making mental lists of things I'll need, and finally decide to begin jotting down notes in my phone.

Just as we're passing through Port Angeles, my phone rings in my hand. It's a Seattle number, and I worry Peter discovered some issue with the lease agreement.

Turning the volume down on the radio, I answer the call. "Hello?"

"_Hello, Bella?"_ It's not Peter. It's a woman's voice.

"Yes?" I respond.

There's a slight hesitation. _"It's Rose. Rosalie Hale."_

"Oh my gosh. Rose?!" I look at Dad in shock.

"Don't mind me," he murmurs.

"_Yeah, it's me…"_ Rose is saying, and I can hear a catch in her voice. _"Bella, I am so, so sorry. I was such a pigheaded bitch to you." _Her blunt words are so typically Rose, and I laugh despite my own sudden tears.

"It's really good to hear your voice, Rose."

* * *

**A/N: So there's that. **


End file.
